


No Hassle Night

by orbiting_saturn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_saturn/pseuds/orbiting_saturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> It wasn't pretty or careful, the guy's hand shoved hard between Sam's shoulder blades, pinning him flat and immobile.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hassle Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt “Sam doesn't want to admit how much he loves being held down and shoved full of c**k”. The title is from a The Dead Weather song.
> 
> This is either non-con or dub-con depending on how you view it.

It's been a long, long time for Sam, not since his first year of college. He's chased it down, taken chances he shouldn't, but it's never been quite as good or quite the same. Back then, Sam was still all lean and inches shorter than he is now, eighteen and fresh and just slight enough. Sam never got the guy's name, just plied with shot after shot of tequila 'til he was loose and smiley, flushed and easy. In a dark dorm room, bed piled high with coats and purses, the guy had shoved Sam down and slicked a hot tongue right into his mouth. "Pretty little freshman," the guy, so fucking huge and all bulky muscle, growled into the sweaty column of Sam's neck. Head swimming, Sam couldn't work up the protests he knew he should, let the guy flip him over so he was belly down on the uneven mound of outerwear.

There had been rallies on campus, girls with megaphones warning freshman girls to watch their drinks, to watch their friends, to watch frat boys who would take advantage of their vulnerabilities. Sam hadn't thought those warnings could apply to him.

Didn't matter. The guy had him drunk and off kilter, cock gone hard from a big palm rubbing it through his jeans. Nevermind that Sam wasn't gay, he was woozy and horny and had a thick wall of muscle working his jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh. It wasn't pretty or careful, the guy's hand shoved hard between Sam's shoulder blades, pinning him flat and immobile. The guy grunted and squeezed one of Sam's bared cheeks possessively. "Fuck yeah," the guy muttered roughly. "Got a sweet, little ass, dont'cha, frosh? Gonna break it in for ya."

Sam squirmed a little, felt his cheeks flush with shame and excitement. He'd been held down before, years of getting pinned by Dean in wrestling matches that went playful, but there was no tapping out here, no saying "Uncle" to this jock who had an aim to fuck him up. It was what it was and Sam couldn't protest even if he wanted to. He didn't though and that was the clincher. Sam's dick was hard as nails, dripping wet against some sorority girl's purse while he panted and shimmied under an immovable force. 

There was a lewd, slurping sound from behind him, didn't compute to Sam's sex-and-drink-addled brain, before something nudged between his cheeks, swirled against the rim of his hole and shoved right in. Sam cried out, stretched too far and too fast in a way he'd never been. His eyes leaked tears and his breath caught against the pain, but it faded to a slow burn quick. Sam's muscles fluttered and relaxed, giving it up all easy from his liquor-buzz. The pressure in him shifted, turned and pulled, the guy's fingers scissoring him open.

"Fucking tight," the guy said, fucked his hand hard against Sam's ass, thick knuckles bumping the rim while Sam whined through the intense sensation. That rough in and out motion lit sparks in Sam, all those undiscovered nerves zinging needy shocks straight to his dick. 

"Fuck, fuck," the guy muttered and pulled his fingers out. Sam's hole tried to clench back up, but felt too loose and lonely. "Gonna fuck your virgin ass, frosh," he said, leaning down with his forearm banded across Sam's back. Sam wanted him to stop talking, to stop spewing his dumbshit words, thought about telling him so, but before he could, there was squelchy noise of the guy spitting into his hand and slicking it over his dick.

When the head popped past Sam's rim, he bit back a cry, swallowed it right past the lump in his throat and just felt it. It stretched Sam further, so wide and tight around the hard flesh, then more and more as the guy pumped his hips, working all the way in with not enough slick. It took three good shoves to get in to the base and Sam felt full and impaled, shaking and rattled by the feel of the guy's sweaty balls against his thighs.

The guy took a second to groan hot breath over Sam's ear, clenched a meaty hand tight enough around Sam's hip to bruise. Sam shivered and twitched, panted so hard he might pass out from lack of oxygen, but all that thickness filling him up was brutally good. It made itself right at home in him, took up every bit of space and Sam was made dizzy by the combating urges to push it out and get it deeper. 

Before Sam could really get used to the stretch, the guy gave him a good, hard thrust. There was nothing nice about this guy, really fucking big and really fucking selfish, hands all hard and demanding on Sam, keeping him in place while he started fucking. That cock of his worked Sam's virgin ass in fast, brutal strokes, skin slapping skin and bouncing him into the bed. Every drag of bare flesh caught dryly, burning friction that was mean and sweet in Sam's hole, rucking him open and out. The guy was grunting and muttering, "Yeah, fuck, mmm, yeah," over and over and so stupidly senseless. 

There was no good reason for Sam to be loving it. He should be pissed, he should have clocked this guy good before he even got started, but there was something exciting about the mindlessness. This guy, whoever the fuck he was, was hammered down to his most basic instincts, rutting and fucking with no other thought than to get off. He was using Sam's tight little hole, making it burn, maybe making it bleed with his deep, hard shoves. 

Sam could feel all of that cock in him, the head of it just skating here and there over his prostate, lighting it up and making it better. He wanted to spread wider, get it a little deeper, but his jeans had his thighs caught up and the guy's bulk was keeping him down. Sam was drooling from his open mouth, moaning and dick-stiff. The skin of Sam's dick was catching against body-warmed leather, slicked by his sweat and precome and the guy's faster and faster strokes were pushing him into the friction. It ratcheted fast, the guy jack-rabbit fast against Sam's ass until it was all too much. Too much of that dick going in and out of him, too much of that skin-catching friction, too much of not enough air until Sam was done, just done. His balls jerked hard, swelled under one good nudge over his prostate and he was coming. He came hard and long, pumped hot slick under him. He twitched, tightened and groaned. 

It ended fast, the guy getting a fist in Sam's hair, tugging hard, fucking deep and jerking. Sam felt his dick swell and pulse, felt come fill him up and it sent one sweet aftershock through his own over-sensitized cock. 

The guy collapsed over Sam, sweaty and massive, catching his breath and huffing adrenaline-fueled laughs into his hair. "Thanks for the ride, frosh," he said, patted Sam's head condescendingly and pulled out. 

That year, Sam grew another three inches, bulked up some to compensate for the new height. He never got it as good as that again, too much length and muscle to feel truly subjugated. It wasn't until much, much later, after watching Castiel carelessly toss a full grown man the length of a football field that Sam started to think maybe he could have it again.


End file.
